


Comfortable enough to feel your warmth

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M, campaign era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: Right, in addition to being a sappy romantic about theideaof snow, actually being in the snow turns Tommy into a hyperactive child.





	Comfortable enough to feel your warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radialarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/gifts).



“Even if it’s true, is this really the most important thing to be chasing down five days before the caucuses?” Tommy is yelling into his phone. It’s eleven thirty on a Saturday night and he’s pacing around the Iowa headquarters, arguing with reporters. Jon is sitting at a desk, ostensibly messing with the speeches again, but he’d mentally called it about an hour ago and is actually just watching Tommy pace.

Surprisingly, they’re alone in the office, though Jon’s sure that there are lots of people still working from home. When he picked up his blackberry five minutes ago he had twelve new messages; Axe sending edits, Plouffe sending canvassing reminders, Adam and Ben asking about the New Hampshire speech because this is only the first of the crushing deadlines on the horizon.

Tommy hangs up the phone and throws it down on his desk carelessly. His hair is sticking up in every direction, he skipped a button on his shirt this morning and Jon’s been too busy and too amused to point it out all day, and he’s so pale that it looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in months. He scowls across the room. “These fucking people. You’d think they’re being paid off by the RNC or the Clinton campaign.” He pauses for a second to dig through the crap on his desk for a water bottle and takes a deep gulp. “Maybe they are. Someone should look into that.”

Jon chuckles at him and shuts his laptop. “I don’t know that investigating the finances of reporters who annoy you is the best use of anyone’s time Tommy.”

“Yeah,” Tommy looks unconvinced. “You don’t have to stick around Favs. I can give you my apartment key?” He digs in his pocket fruitlessly, coming up with a couple business cards and a half-unwrapped mint which he looks at critically for a second before popping it in his mouth.

“You did. Three hours ago.” Jon holds up the key in demonstration. “I wanted to wait for you. I’ve been working on the victory speech.”

“Don’t you fucking jinx it.” Tommy scowls.

“There are two speeches!” Jon protests. There are, but if he’s being honest, one of them has gotten a lot more careful attention than the other. He knows better than to be overly optimistic about political wins and Dan reminds him daily to be even more pessimistic than he is. Nevertheless, he’s as certain as he can be. They’re going to win Iowa. The campaign has gotten fantastic response, the Senator has been so well received, and the team has been doing incredible work. They’ve got the best organizers on the ground, they’ve got the local passion, Ronnie and Mike haven’t slept in months. And Tommy’s here. They’re going to win.

“Mhmm.” Tommy goes to turn back to his phone. “You should head out though. It’s late.” Jon sighs and crosses the floor to his desk.

“Come with me Tommy. There can’t be all that much that won’t wait til morning and we’ve got to be back here in six hours.” Tommy gives him a skeptical look. “You’re going to crash and then you’ll be useless tomorrow.” Jon bites his lip and pulls out his last card. “It’s snowing.”

Even Tommy’s general stress can’t mask the way his eyes light up at that. Jon’s been carefully watching the windows all night as he worked and Tommy paced. Tommy loves the snow like the consummate New Englander he is and Jon knows he’d been disappointed that their twenty-four hour whirlwind of a Christmas journey home had not white.

“It’s fluffy and pretty and there’s a full moon,” Jon promises, as he picks up Tommy’s bag and holds it out to him. “And also, sleep.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, but he puts the phone back on his desk and reaches for his coat. “Fine. We’re past the print deadlines anyways. I’m not turning the blackberry off though.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” Jon says easily, grabbing his own stuff and moving towards the door quickly, before Tommy can change his mind.

Tommy’s entire demeanor shifts as they leave the office and start off in the direction of his apartment. It’s truly the perfect snowfall, the ground blanketed in enough snow that it’s easy to forget there are city streets and dead grass underneath but not enough to make it hard to walk, large flakes still shimmering in the air as they fall. Tommy’s grin and the easy way he moves with the stress temporarily lifted is enough to put the worried conversations about the effects of snow on turnout out of Jon’s mind.

They’re in the park next to Tommy’s apartment when Jon realizes Tommy is no longer next to him. Seconds after this realization, he’s squealing and jumping a foot in the air as a handful of freezing snow is dropped down his collar. He whirls around to see a shit eating grin on Tommy’s face before he’s hit with a snowball to the head.

“Fucking hell!” Jon yelps, already bending down to collect a pile of his own. Tommy is giggling as he ducks Jon’s clumsy shot. Right, in addition to being a sappy romantic about the _idea_ of snow, actually being in the snow turns Tommy into a hyperactive child.

Jon hasn’t felt this carefree in what seems like years, while they fling snow at each other, laughing way too loud for this late in a public park. This campaign has already led to a lot of incredible experiences for him and if they somehow manage to pull this off, there’s so much to look forward to on the horizon, but this, right now is enough. Soaked through and giggling at midnight in Iowa with Tommy, he feels at home.

It might be ten minutes or a half an hour later when Jon finally lands a snowball directly on Tommy’s nose. Tommy looks shocked for a minute and then his face darkens and he dives at Jon, tackling him to the ground in a snowbank.

“Ouch,” Jon complains through his wheezing giggles. He pushes at Tommy’s shoulders and wriggles his hips but Tommy just presses more weight down on him with a grin. “You could have just slammed me into cement. I could have gotten a concussion.”

“Are you concussed?” Tommy asks with mock concern, moving one of the hands that’s bracing himself on the ground to the back of Jon’s head with actual gentleness.

“No,” Jon admits. “I’m very wet and cold though.” He’s very aware of Tommy’s hips pressing into his, the duality of the cold snow at his back and Tommy’s warm solidness at his front. Tommy doesn’t move immediately, resting on top of Jon and looking at him assessing before slowly climbing up and holding out a hand.

“Come on, better warm you up,” he says lightly. The shiver that runs down Jon’s spine isn’t from the cold. They’ve done this a couple times, since Tommy reached out to wipe the cotton candy off his face at the state fair last summer, in Tommy’s apartment in Iowa, in Jon’s room in Chicago, in hotel rooms on the trail, but Jon’s not sure he could ever feel calm when Tommy looks at him like _that_.

Tommy keeps a friendly arm around Jon’s shoulders as they walk into his building and up to his apartment, letting go only to let Jon open the door. They separate when they walk inside to shrug out of their wet coats. “So, hot cocoa?” Jon jokes lamely, shoving his hands into his damp jeans pockets.

Tommy scoffs at him, but his eyes are warm as he steps behind Jon to push him towards his bedroom by the shoulders. “I have a better idea,” he says smugly, already tugging Jon’s sweater over his head. Jon almost walks into the doorframe but Tommy steers him away at the last second.

Jon struggles out of his own jeans when Tommy lets him go. As soon as he extracts his ankles from the sticky denim, Tommy’s in front of him again, pushing him down onto the bed easily and climbing on top of him, just as he had in the snow outside. Jon squirms a little, experimentally, and reaches for Tommy’s shoulders.

Tommy grins as he presses him down harder and grabs his wrists, holding them loosely, but securely as he pushes them over Jon’s head to the mattress.

“Good?” he asks. Jon knows he’s flushing as he nods eagerly. Tommy’s so good at this, covering him and keeping him grounded, in bed as in life. He drops his head to swallow the embarrassing sound Jon makes in a kiss while he’s reaching out with his free hand to the dresser besides them.

Jon floats in the warmth of Tommy above him, the softness of the blanket on the bed below him, and the exhaustion of his body while Tommy slips a slick hand between them to grip both of their dicks. Before too long, he feels Tommy shudder above him and arches up into his hand to follow him over the edge.

“Thanks for pulling me out of there,” Tommy says softly. He’s cleaned them both off and drawn the covers up over them, curled up close behind Jon. “I needed this.”

“Of course,” Jon mumbles, already half asleep. “What are friends for?”

  



End file.
